Seneschals of the Supreme
by Shurpuff
Summary: The small city of Carne is all that remains of the Union of Free Cities. Thus, their greatest weapon is to be sent away into the Dread Woods, where it cannot be used by the enemy. But what awaits therein is a secret that will shatter the world: this world that worships the Forty-One Who Are Supreme. (AU, contains 'Gamer'-like elements)
1. Prologue - part 1

_The great doors to the Throne room opened. A skull-shaped face emerged from the darkness. The rest of its body was an elegant black and red ensemble._

 _"Ah, Tabula-san, there you are," he said. There was a figure on the other end of the big throne room. It was humanoid, with slimy, grotesque features which looked more at home in the lightless murk of the oceans. "Are you not ready? The meeting's about to begin."_

 _The one named Tabula raised a hand in greeting. "Yo, Momonga-san. I'll be right there, just give me a sec." He waved his hands in front of him, like he were casting a spell._

 _"...What are you doing over there?" Tabula stood before one of the NPCs. The name escaped Momonga at the moment. Yet he was sure she was Tabula's._

 _"Fixing something." Tabula did not say anything more than that._

 _Finding it hard to maintain the pretense of conversation, Momonga palmed the [Ring of Ainz Ooal Gown]. "Okay. Try not too take too long. It's an important meeting, after all, and I hope everyone'll be there."_

 _"I will, Guildmaster," Tabula said. In a flash of light, Momonga left, leaving nothing but silence and a pensive man, standing before his creation._

* * *

Last spring, Prince Barbro of the Archduchy of Re-Estize crossed the border with an army of ten thousand. The next day, the Holy Kingdom's best and brightest crossed their side of the border. For a while it was a race on who could gobble up territory before the other. People in my city laid odds on the two rivals getting stuck in on a fierce battle.

A week later, the city of Rober lifted the white flag to the armies of Queen Bessarez. Not long after, Pesper fell to Prince Barbro after a brief siege. After that the rumors became vague. Some say the two armies had skirmished; no, that there had been a deal, a treaty, an agreement.

Brumarashur had long sold itself to Re-Estize. Rivela had been captured through treachery. Last winter the Bloody Emperor had forced the surrender of easternmost Urobar before the Archduchy could campaign there.

So much for the Union of Free Cities. Now with Rober and Pesper gone, the only remaining city that was "free" was Carne.

The city council debated long and into the night. They did so for many nights. Surrender, but to whom? On what terms? Defiance, but with what force?

As spring crossed lazily to summer, it became clear that Prince Barbro would make the attempt before the year was done. The Queen had recalled much of her armies back, meaning the Holy Kingdom was satisfied with gaining Rober.

Now we received emissaries from the Archduchy, demanding peaceful surrender. Carne had been the technical "capital" of the Union. The Duke who had sparked the rebellion against the then-Kingdom of Re-Estize had ruled in Carne. Together with his allied nobles, they had carved out a land for themselves, leaving the old Kingdom a bleeding husk.

Re-Estize would not surely forget that humiliation. That was the source of Carne's trepidation. They would have gladly vowed fealty to the Archduke otherwise.

In our turn, we sent emissaries to certain people. Of these, I was not aware, until I witnessed the rituals.

Asking the gods for help wasn't something I would scoff at. But surely this was not the time for auguries? Besides, did not the enemy have the patronage of these very same gods?

They prayed at the temples of Touch Me, of the triune aspects of Bukubukuchagama; at the sanctuaries of Blue Planet, of kind Yamaiko, the shrines dedicated to Warrior Takemikazuchi, Slayer of Dragons, the forge-God, Amanomahitotsu, or the God of Wiles, Punitto Moe; deep in the hidden chapels of the Three-faced Goddess' Fertile Brother, Peroroncino, the Untiring Abyss, Herohero, and of the Lord of Secrets, Tabula Smaragdina.

Shady figures made their presence known in those days as well. They brought forbidden objects with them, outlawed fetishes and images banned everywhere, whose mere sight would make a paladin blush. There were cultists of the Four Disasters: Ulbert Alain Odle, Variable Talisman, Bellriver, Luci*fer. There came ill-disguised beastmen bringing their foul-smelling effigies of Beast King Mekongawa.

Even the terrible Arbiter of Death, who oversaw the whole of Creation, Momonga, was petitioned. Every Supreme Being was called, in ritual, in song, in plea.

No one answered, neither in word nor omen.

The vote to surrender was unanimous. And if the issue was only left at that then I would've been satisfied. Unfortunately for me, the city raised one more issue, one directly related to me.

"Our Great Armor must not fall to the Duchy!" was the other unanimous decision the good old council decided. Old General Alfaraz, ancestor on my mother's side, had passed down to me my single most valuable headache-the piece of junk that marked me for a soldier before I was ever even born.

The Jashin armor was eight feet tall, heavier than a house and tough enough to withstand dragon's fire. It could grant strength equal to a hundred men. It was enchanted to be worn by anyone tall enough to fit into the frame, tied to the blood of the original owner, through a secret process that only the forge-priests of Amanomahitotsu knew.

Their combat power was such that the old Duke Lima had sent six of his Jashin, including my ancestor the General, against ten thousand soldiers from the Kingdom, where they prevailed. This was accomplished by separately baiting the enemy Jashin away. It prevented Jashin from meeting Jashin, a catastrophic and expensive affair. The forge-priests demanded much for their services.

My brief tenure as Jashin-wearer was delivering cannons, boxes of shot and powder barrels to Brumarashur, work that spanned three whole days. You can imagine my consternation when that city willfully surrendered to the Kingdom instead of fighting.

Mine was the only Jashin still remaining in the Union. And point of pride meant it could not fall into Archduke Lanposa III's hands.

Naturally, there was nothing I could do about the council's decision. I could not even protest. It was off to the Dread Woods, to die if it was my fate, and keep the armor there, forever.

I stood before the mirror on the night before departure and cursed the woman who stood looking back. Cursed me for being born, for being led to this trap, when long ago I could have ended it all by hurling myself from the highest point on the city walls. The armor had once been my pride, when the city of Carne and all who lived there had been worth fighting for. But time and toil had changed my perspective.

I could not flee, taking my burden with me; to become mercenary, or to offer my Jashin to the Archduke's mercy. While I held the key to unlock and use the armor, the city mayor held another key, which ignited the magical process that allowed me to wear it. Worst of all, it was like a compass-and could point to where the armor was in the world. If it pointed in any other direction than the Dread Woods, then he could easily deactivate the magic, crushing my body inside the armor in a single instant.

"You're still awake," said a voice behind me. I looked back and saw my childhood friend, Nfrea Bareare. I could almost pity him. When he heard the council's decree, he had been the loudest to argue. He'd condemned the decision, even insulting the need to glorify Duke Lima's memory. He'd get a lot of stink for that, and if it weren't for his alchemy shop, they'd already be dragging him out the walls.

"I finished with the last bits you wanted," he continued. "Several potions, antidotes, flash-sticks. And the mini-bombs."

"You're so kind," I said. "Thanks, Enfi."

"It was my pleasure."

I can feel the conflict raging within him. He desperately wants to go with me to certain death, to face down the unknown perils of the Dread Woods with me. But the woods were no place for humans, nor less a boy. For decades it had been a natural deterrent from the Slaine Theocracy in the south, even before it had gained its current notoriety.

Turning away from the mirror, I stood before Enfi. I embraced him, and lead him to my room. Today is possibly my last day on this world. I was a soldier bound to my duties; and I must leave all I care for behind.

I already took Enfi's virginity a short while ago. Our lovemaking now was long, painful and bittersweet. I could almost hear his silent pleas to me to reconsider. But Enfi was never the type to openly voice his mind.

A pity. If he'd just had more courage I could have risked losing some of mine.

* * *

It was a few hours until dawn, but I was already up. I felt restless, almost excited. I left Enfi snoozing on the bed and went down to my workshop, where the accursed Jashin waited.

If there was one triumph I could salvage from this whole mess, it was that I would be taking one of my best secrets to the grave. Neither Enfi nor the city of Carne nor my instructors at Jashin "boot camp" knew about it.

I had the Divine Eye.

It was a bothersome thing for most of my life, until I learned to use it. It then became just an annoying little speck in my sight. The Divine Eye allowed me to see certain runes and numbers on objects in my sight. For example, in this very moment, I lay eyes on my Jashin armor and see a dizzying set of runes and numbers floating all around it, like a cloud of flies.

Many people died to claim a child with the Gift. It was said to be a blessing from the Supreme Beings, a way to view the world through their eyes. Luckily, I'd been precocious enough to learn all about what happened to people with the Eye. I kept my mouth firmly shut, even to my parents.

The Divine Eye could allow me to see information on things. If I were looking at Enfi, I would see his full name, see several bars representing his "health", his "mana", his "stamina" (his stamina bar only refilled itself to a quarter full-once-last night, if you know what I mean) and something called "experience level". I could see he was 100% human. I could see he had levels in various classes in a grid: he was currently an Alchemist (Genius) Level 4, Pharmacist (Genius) Level 4, Wizard Level 2 and Jashin Tech Level 1. I could see what spell he was using, or what concoction he would make, while he was doing it.

And it wasn't just limited to Enfi. I'd gauged adventurers from out of town, and seen their rank before they even announced it. I could see their overall levels, their varying classes. I could see the information on their gear, and what enchantments they had. Once, I had seen a Level 5 Thief pretend to be an honest merchant, witnessed rookie adventurers gaining a level in their classes. I could even appraise the price of whatever objects they sold.

Certain information the Eye gave was still unknown to me. Beyond one's parameters like "Strength", or "Magic", the rest of the info was useless.

According to my Eye, the modified Jashin armor had well over 800 armor. Compare that to the brigandines used by our city watch, which only had only 5, or 6. Adventurers usually came up to a hundred or more, depending on their rank. Our outer walls came in at 600 armor. An easy conclusion could be made: a blow that could shatter our city wall would not dent the Jashin.

Aside from its protective potential, the armor also had a number of other things my Eye could see. It listed the amount of modifications dear Enfi had made. All of them were additions to the inner surface of the armor, as none but a forge-priest could modify the outer shell itself. The most important ones were potion injectors, with vials already set up and ready. If ever I needed a boost to my stamina, or to give me a little drug-induced frenzy, I could just press my skin against the injector and it would activate.

When already wearing a Jashin I could not reliably use spells. And I was a perfect dud as a spellcaster. I think most Jashin users were, because it seemed difficult to cast spells from within the thick armor. The little slots on the forearms of the Jashin hid secret compartments where one could insert scrolls. I took a stack and inserted those which I needed. [Light], a couple of [Fireballs], an emergency [Message], etc.

Lastly, I began one final touch of cleaning up the armor with a special oil. I'd seen Enfi had already done that yesterday, the sweet lad, but I could not relax without doing it myself. It was more than my little ritual; after all, no matter how much I hated it, this Jashin may just become my epitaph for Lord Momonga to collect. I snorted, finding it funny to imagine his bony fingers struggling to pry my soul from the black shell, like Enfi trying to unscrew a stubbornly latched cork.

I sighed, banishing that thought. It seemed kind of unpleasant.

When I was done, daylight streamed fully from the windows, bathing the room with gold. When Enfi came down, yawning his sleep away, he yelped and covered his eyes when he saw me. I was nearly naked, a necessity for operating the Jashin.

I snorted. He'd just had me naked for hours. I tossed my last bit of underwear to the side and approached the Jashin.

"Um...! Enri!"

I paused. "What?"

A long silence. The moment passed, long and brittle. "Sounds like you've got nothing to say," I spat, then walked up to the Jashin. The fool said nothing more as he helped me get snugly fitted inside my prospective tomb.

For a brief moment I stood in sweltering, contemplative darkness. The armor was designed such that no article of clothing could be brought within, or else the spells would fail to work. The thought always amused me-inside the shells of each active Jashin was a utterly naked man or woman, sweating like a pig.

Then, the cooling spells came on, and I looked out through the Jashin's pitiless eyes.

* * *

If ever there was a weapon that was basic to the Jashin, it would be the eight-feet long chunk of iron I now swung around. Known as the Beater, the Whacker, the Slab, the simple weapon was less a sword than a long, thick, brutish club.

Yet a swing from this baby, coupled with the Jashin's enhanced strength, could send the unwary enemy Jashin flying. It could not batter the thick, reinforced armor; but the vibration from impact would most definitely break a bone or two. Against a lesser-armored soldier the club was unashamedly more brutal and decisive.

Well, that was what I heard from my instructor, of course. I'd never had to battle another Jashin. Back then I wished I didn't have to; on the day I die I still don't want to.

Using the Divine Eye I'd seen the weapon had a hefty amount of "strike power", as well as a decent amount of durability. As it was not enchanted, I saw no spells on it. Its weight was equivalent to fifteen robust work-horses.

I'd be exiting through the southern gate. While walking with Enfi towards it, practically nobody seemed to be around to see me off. But I did feel a dozen hidden gazes crawling around my body from everywhere. It didn't take my own "Eye" to sense it. It was kind of strange. Then again, the sight of a giant, hulking piece of armor, with a sword easily almost as tall strapped to its back, would be intimidating to the average folk.

The departure committee at the gates was so sparse I could have easily voiced a protest. It was only the mayor, some of his fellow flunkies, and Enfi. The rest of the city council who'd condemned me to the forest wasn't there. For a moment, I greedily thought about turning around and rampaging through the mayor's house, to find the deactivation key-and then freedom.

If Enfi had suggested it, I could've gone along readily. But he's a good boy. Kind. He was angry on my behalf, but he'd be disappointed if I went that far.

Still it wasn't as if I couldn't voice my final displeasure with the whole affair-by rudely snubbing the mayor's practiced speech, and heading out the gates. I passed by the gate guards (armor still valued a 4 each, after a quick check), then knocked my arm against the open portcullis. It made an ominous clang, which half the city surely would have heard.

"Nfirea Bareare, sir, what might you be doing?" the mayor asked. I turned to look.

"I'm coming with her," Enfi said, tightening the strap of the large travel bag on his back. I rolled my eyes. I lifted Enfi by the back of his coat, and then flung him back towards the goodbye committee.

"Goodbye, Enfi. I don't need weaklings where I'm going."

"But Enri-!"

"I think you're also misunderstanding something. I don't like you, Enfi. Never did. You're just an annoying little twerp. I had fun with your entertaining attempts to woo me, but you're not exactly my type. So just stay here, for your own sake, by the gods. Thanks for all your help, but this is goodbye."

Chuckling to myself, I left Carne without looking back.

Was it too much? Not really. I meant almost half of what I said. Things might have been different, if I'd just been an ordinary citizen of Carne, and not the heiress of an accursed Jashin. And this moment was definitely goodbye, no matter how much Enfi wished otherwise.

Down the paved road I could clearly see the forest in the distance. But it was some walking distance still. To the left and right of me were some of the crop fields belonging to brave farmers from the city. I spotted those people still working the fields there, and they stared at me as I passed them by. Some of the braver kids tried to get a closer look, but they all seemed like Enfis. No backbone.

Soon enough, the lumbering Jashin finally reached the edge of the forest. I walked past a few of the trees, and continued on into the dappled shadows of the inner forest. It was easier not to feel trepidation when I was encased in armor stronger than a castle wall.

* * *

When I was a kid, the forest hadn't been called the "Dread Forest". It had simply been the "Great Forest". There had been no awesome story attached to the forest, just the rumors of elves, and other creatures like ogres, or lizardmen, living in its depths. It was a natural deterrent for the old Kingdom of Re-Estize from southern threats, particularly the Slaine Theocracy.

Several years ago, that seemed to change. The adventurer's guild in Carne received more and more reports of irregular activity that disrupted normal work in the forest. Simple requests to hunt goblins or giant spiders ended in tragedy. Veteran groups sent to investigate never returned. A joint expedition of Union soldiers, workers, and high-rank adventurers could not even get past three miles before the commander called a retreat, speaking of "devils and demons and dark things".

Fewer adventurers came to stop by Carne, until business practically evaporated, and the hub was moved north to Rober. A skeleton crew was all that remained of our local guild, and was forbidden to handle complaints about the newly-named "Dread Forest".

I've heard not even the hardiest of criminals wanted in here. It may all just be bullshit, but a man about to be executed in the Archduchy was questioned about possible hideouts in the Forest. The guy said not even the hardasses with gallons of blood on their hands wanted to hear about going down there. Crossing the haunted Katze Plains was better than having to enter the Forest.

I experienced the eerie uneasiness for the first time when I was about an hour inside. I had no direction, just "forward", and it was then that I noticed there were no living creatures I could sense. No birds chirping, little creatures chittering, no movements in the bush-nothing. This was definitely not natural. How could the previous surviving adventurers not have mentioned this little fact? Or what about the farmers in those fields back there? They never got once to remarking, "This is a bad forest, with no one living here but the silent trees". I suppose the people of Carne, including myself would not have believed it.

As always I was ready to fight at a moment's notice. They expected me to die, but I damned sure would get to the bottom of the mystery before I'd let my body vomit my spirit out to Lord Momonga. If there were things here that a Jashin could not overcome, then the whole world was in for a rude awakening.

Though I do keep reminding myself that I'm not a warrior, just a Jashin-using woman. If I could use the Divine Eye on myself I'd probably see just "Civilian" and "Jashin User", and probably something else mundane. I wasn't expecting to be the very next hero or anything.

Movement. I immediately drew the Whacker from my back. My Divine Eye pulsed. I braced for an attack that would come.

A blur came from the right, its shape unrecognizable until I felt something latch on to my right wrist. Whatever it was held on, like a leech, as I flailed my arms up and down, until I managed to throw it off. I focused on the thing, and let my Eye do the observing.

 _A wolf?_ It certainly looked the part. But it was a larger, stranger breed of wolf than I was taught. On its feet it was taller than a horse. Its thick jaws were wide enough to swallow a man whole, and filled with razor sharp teeth, each as long as a sword. Its cruel eyes seemed to stare deep into my soul, as if possessing its own Divine Eye.

 _Could it be one of those dire wolves I heard about?_ Against enemies-or things I had not observed for long-my Eye was slow with gathering information. I could see its health first. Other aspects came, like its name, but it was an unknown. Level: unknown. Parameters: unknown. Everything else seemed an unknown.

"Fuck me!" I roared, swinging my Beater menacingly. The huge beast growled, its eyes now regarding the twirling weapon. I leaped forward and swung downward. But it jumped back.

The wolf charged forward like a rocket. Before I could raise my weapon it was on me, clawing at my armor while its jaws clamped around my helm. The Jashin could filter out smells, but not all, and the inside of its mouth stank to high heaven.

"Get... the... fuck... off!" I managed to force the wolf's mouth away before I flung it with all the force I could muster to the side. Breathing deeply, I scrambled for my fallen Whacker before I swung in a wide arc behind me. I was satisfied to hear it collide with a bone-crunching smash against the wolf. It went flying back with a pained howl, slamming against a far tree.

Briefly winded, I leaned on the Beater. That wolf was no ordinary beast. It had taken an effort to wrestle it off her. It had only been knocked away by the Beater, and not hideously eviscerated. This was a dragon-like threat.

"...No wonder the forest is all silent," I remark. If this thing was here at the very depths it would explain a lot.

The wolf rolled to its feet, its eyes furious and hateful. It was strange: either it was a quirk of my Eye or something, but I could almost read the creature's emotions. It seemed wary and confused, more than it had been at the start. It sniffed at me.

"C'mon you," I said, hefting the sword. "Want to get some more? I'll give it to you."

The wolf snarled. I expected it to attack, but instead it cocked its head. A moment later, it bounded off to the side, and disappeared into the bush. I stood there for a good long moment, my weapon raised, but the wolf never did reappear. Cautiously I checked out the direction it went, and saw no sign of my enemy.

I slumped to the ground in frustration. My adrenaline leaked out of me slowly like liquid pouring through Enfi's sieve. It was a good thing I'd been conditioned by Jashin training not to piss myself in fear at the first onset of combat. That would've been quite horrifying to experience, being trapped inside with my own piss.

There was practically no place for waste to go in this armor, unless one were to open it. That meant me having to go all the way back to Carne to beg the mayor to let me out of my stinking armor.

Remembering where I was, I got up and started to head in the same direction as where I thought the wolf would go. That thing seemed to be the source of the mystery in this forest; if not, then it would lead me to the real truth.

It seemed I was on the right track, at least. The forest grew denser, the trees growing ever closer to each other. At the same time I could definitely feel like eyes were on me. Fine then. The wolf was not the source, but was connected to it, at least.

I was prepared to find anything at the heart of it. A dark, forbidding cave, or a clearing filled with strange creatures-even a dragon. But what I wasn't prepared to see was the graveyard.

"What the-?" The forest suddenly terminated in a large, ornate staircase, which led up to an eerie-looking graveyard. Countless mausoleums, statues, and epitaphs littered the area towards the back. Stepping forward cautiously, I saw that it was no crumbling, haunted ruin.

The place seemed clean, almost sterile. In fact, it almost seemed better kept than Carne's own graveyard. Still, the fact that this thing existed within the forest obviously meant something.

 _Could that wolf really have gone here_ , I wondered. Maybe it went someplace else. It was hard to imagine that thing making its home in these ruins-unless, I thought with a blanch, that was actually some sort of demon wolf I'd fought. I suppressed the shiver that came over me, and ascended the stairs.

The graveyard area proper was as hauntingly silent as the forest that preceded it. I took care to walk slowly, cautious for traps. After all, I'm just a stupid, uneducated civilian with barely any experience with nearly half the things copper-ranked adventurers dealt with routinely. I only had the Jashin to help me survive the unexpected. I walked forward one step at a time, my Eye constantly alert for anything.

After a while, the silence became unbearable. Also, the feeling of being watched seemed to triple. Something, or many things, were definitely here. "Oh, by the gods if you're here, then show yourselves already!" I called, holding out my Beater like a talisman.

Then, there came the sound of clattering, like stones clacking against each other.

It wasn't my first time seeing the dusty dead rising in a huge clatter to strike. It was standard for young Jashin inheritors, the raw recruits who'd only worn their armors for the first time, to have to face undead. Skeletons, for example, like the ones now rising from their earthen graves before me, were common "first enemies".

I guess they figured the shock value of seeing undead move for the first time would make oneself develop a resistance to being shocked by other, unnatural things. Though Jashin users were not expected to fight exotic monsters, like adventurers, enemy countries could be known to field bizarre troops from time to time. An undead ogre, for example, was a decent shocktrooper in a battle, and if a Jashin were not sufficiently experienced, they wouldn't be able to attack.

Also, skeletons were common occurrences in the world, arising from accumulated negative energies almost everywhere. Cheap fodder, in other words. Those who did not or refused to pay the Cult of Zuranon had infamously dreadful graveyards teeming with the things every day, like maggots swarming over a corpse.

Carne had invested in Zuranon's upkeep of Lord Momonga's shrine at the center of our graveyard, but owing to our declining fortunes, we'd let payments lapse. I was responsible for skeleton cleanup every couple of months or so.

Now these skeletons at the moment formed a veritable army. But, my Eye could not see anything particularly dangerous about them, or the rusted weapons they wielded.

"Shaaa!"

After shouting that inelegant battlecry I charged forward, my fear as my shield. I might just easily die from some crummy skeletons, but I didn't care.

It felt real good smashing them up into little pieces. It was exactly like de-weeding a garden, except not as back-breaking. The Beater made good work annihilating them, too fast for my Eye to keep up.

I felt the hairs at the back of my neck rise. I stopped, still high from all the adrenaline, to see new skeletal forms appearing in the distance.

"Oh."

Sometimes one just didn't need experience to know something bad was up. One didn't need to compare the new skeletons' look, their weapons, their armor; to the skeletons I'd just been dusting, to know the former was bad news. It was like suddenly seeing an armored soldier just march into your vision, when you didn't expect it.

Quickly, I flicked the flap on my wrist open. I drew the scroll within, then activated the magic writ on it.

"[Fireball]!"

The bright red magic slammed against the new skeletons. Though their fellow was engulfed, the others moved forward, implacable.

Then, a moment later, the fire faded, and my target walked forward, looking none the worse for wear.

I clucked my tongue. So, all of my magic was out of the question. Though cautious, I saw no other means but to charge forward still. Which I did.

One particular skeleton with a shield as large as its body was blown away, though its shield looked like it had only taken minor damage. I leaped up and slammed my feet onto the shield, crushing the skeleton underneath.

I turned and clashed my Beater against the sword of another, before I slammed my fist against its head, crushing it instantly. So it seemed the Jashin was still useful. I grabbed the fallen creature's sword before it could clatter to the ground, after then hurling it at another.

It was harsh, messy work. The skeletons were more skilled as warriors than I was, and I was only saved from being skewered or shot by the Jashin. Slowly but surely I carved my way into their ranks, using my fists mostly to bash skulls in.

My Eye gave an estimation of their levels: Level 30. I could almost laugh hysterically at that. Me, going up against level 30 monsters?

My body felt bruised and worn, as the repeated impact of their weapons on the armor had taken effect. Feeling winded, but triumphant, I grabbed hold of a spine and slammed like a whip it against the last skeleton, shattering both skulls instantly.

"Gah!" I had to use Enfi's potions now. I was on the brink of exhaustion. The things had been too strong. A better trained Jashin soldier could have breezed through without much effort, but I was only a civilian.

A civilian fated to die.

A soft snicker interrupted my gloomy thoughts.

* * *

"What the-"

I caught a glimpse of an armored figure standing mere feet from me before I scrambled back, on Jashin-powered feet, landing a distance away. I looked up, and saw the mysterious figure already standing there, close to me, having moved just as quickly.

"By the gods!" I yelled, raising the Beater before me. I glared at the thing, literally pushing my Eye to give me an idea of this new thing. Its armor was completely red, almost rose-colored. The dim surroundings shrouded the face in its open-slitted helm.

On second inspection, the armored figure seemed far shorter than I was. But it didn't seem any less oppressive in presence. It was like walking near an adamantatite-ranked adventurer-it was like being in the presence of the Supreme Beings.

"Hey," I said. "I'm not looking for trouble." That was kind of a lie, but the other one didn't need to know that. "What is this place?"

Only a muffled giggle was the reply. I clenched my fist around the handle of my Beater.

"Haah!" I struck hard and quick. But the warrior seemed like wind, always one step away from my attack. After making another loud giggle, the warrior lashed out, knocking the Beater from my hands.

I was lucky enough to raise my hands in defense, and ended up locking my palms against my foe's. I gasped at the sheer strength belying its diminutive size. I could feel my muscles straining at the powerful force that struggled against me, something that I've never felt before. I gritted my teeth; dug in my heels.

Despite my struggle, I almost laughed in my turn. The situation reminded me of something from my childhood. I used to wrestle Enfi like this when I was just a kid, and I won nearly in all bouts. I don't really know if he just let me win because even back then he already had a crush on me.

I laugh, because there was one time I got really pissed with Enfi that I went ahead and broke his nose. And I did that by smashing my head right in his stupid face.

I laugh, because that's exactly what I do. I rear back a little, then smash the Jashin's black helmet against the giggling warrior's.

I laugh, again, when the smaller warrior gets blown back, its head literally snapping backwards from the force of impact. Its body tumbles backward helplessly, like a puppet thrown carelessly to the side.

"Haah... Haahh... How'd you like that?" I asked weakly, my knees trembling from the strain. My feeling of triumph was diminished by the fact that I finally realized I was in way over my head. My Eye could definitely see a number of unknown enchantments-on just one piece of that thing's armor. _Every_ piece of its armor was filled to the brim with magical effects too advanced for me to comprehend. I hadn't seen such an amount-not even on adventurers.

An awful screech answered me. The fallen warrior pushed itself upwards, as if it were being raised by invisible strings. It continued to make such awful sounds, before pouncing on me like the wolf had.

It was like fending off a rabid animal. The warrior would strike, quick as lightning, pounding against the Jashin's armor repeatedly until I threw it off. That didn't last long as it would pounce again, giving me no time to rest.

"Get...off...whoa!" In my struggle, I slipped, falling to the ground with an almighty crash. Then, it punched the helmet, sending my head crashing against the inside. Stars bloomed in my vision as the impact of the blow left me woozy.

Yet the enemy was relentless, now pounding its fists against my unprotected chest, while all I could do was lie there and do my best to weather the storm. When I rallied myself, I raised my arms to seize its body, but the warrior lashed out, slamming into the helmet and making my head spin once again.

Its fingers found the hinge that opened up the Jashin from the front. It scrabbled at that part, clawing and smashing until I could almost feel the armor give way, followed by the screeching sound of something metallic being forced apart. I could feel the slight instance of the outside air coming in through the small hole it made.

"Found the weak spot!" the warrior said. It sounded like a child, somehow. I blinked, and raised my head. My jaw dropped down when I saw that it now held a long, cruel-looking lance. I moved to rise, but the thing lifted me by the head before throwing me through the air, my back slamming against something hard.

The pain was much too unbearable now. The Jashin had done its best, but it had also helped turn its occupant into liquid mush. I could only lie there, my body stinging and ringing from the lopsided battle.

It was obvious even to me that I was about to have an appointment soon with jolly Lord Momonga. No matter how much I could struggle, I could not hope to best this enemy. I was just a rookie; no, I wasn't even that. Just a poor girl who'd inherited one of the worst things in this stupid world.

The warrior dipped its lance forward, the tip pointed straight at me. There was no mistaking that lethal intent.

I could feel the corners of my eyes darkening. Momonga's black cloak, I thought to myself. It was the superstition that this was the last thing anyone saw before death.

I closed my eyes.

* * *

Moments passed. I could still hear the harsh sounds of my breath within my black tomb.

I opened my eyes. Had something happened?

I saw quite a sight before me. Standing next to the armored figure, who now kneeled on the ground, surrounded by something like tree roots, were several figures. The strangest part of it was that each of them looked markedly different from the other.

There was a figure with bat wings sprouting from his back, dressed in strange clothes. There were a couple of young, dark-skinned children. Some distance behind them were a group of people wearing something like maid clothes.

"Really now, Shalltear, you were supposed to only test the armor's capabilities," came a smooth, sophisticated voice.

"I don't-I shouldn't-Damnation! Get these roots out of- Kuh! Fine. I merely wished for a sip."

"You're really dumb, aintcha?" asked another unfamiliar voice.

"What was that?"

"And did you forget exactly who was inside?" said the first voice.

"I-I-of course not! I'm not stupid!"

"Yet you very nearly killed them." There came the sound of feet crunching against the ground. The stranger in the elegant suit approached.

"Wh-who are you?" I said weakly, trying to struggle to get back on my feet.

The footsteps stopped. "Ah, my apologies, agent. Allow me to undo the binds on your mind.

 **"[Green]."**

"Gah!"

Images filled my mind, so many that it made my head throb, made it feel like it would burst-

 _"This, then, is your mission..."_

 _"...only one who can do this..."_

 _"...avenge Sebas' failure..."_

 **"[Twist]."**

"Hurk!"

Pieces fell into place. I writhed under the weight of everything, as if the whole world crashed down on my head.

 _"...difficult to infiltrate..."_

 _"This new armor, will be..."_

 _"...wish you all the luck, and may the Supreme Beings..."_

 **"[Seven-seven-five]."**

I see.

I was. I am. I AM!

 **"[Glory to Ainz Ooal Gown]."**

 _Nighttime. The girl doesn't scream. But she did drop her tools making such a loud clatter, and that's bad._

 _You hide in the darkness, your very essence clamped down on the girl's, absorbing her mind, her memories, her form, everything that encompassed her._

 _"Enri? Are you there? I thought I heard something. Enri?"_

 _In the darkness, things get squashed and mixed, like cookie dough. Frantic._

 _The sound draws the boy._

 _"Enri? Are you there? Please say something...!"_

 _Lamp. Discovery. Failure?_

 _No._

 _I rose, and turned to smile at my childhood friend_ **[Nfirea Bareare]** _. "Hey there, Enfi. I-I was just checking something in here."_

 _"Oh, right. You know, for a minute there, I thought I heard you scream."_

 _"Perhaps it's your imagination?"_

 _"...Maybe there was a rat and you did?"_

 _"Oh, shut it, you-"_

The mists have been drawn from my mind. I rose from within the "tomb" of the Jashin, and knelt before the Floor Guardians of Nazarick that have gathered.

"I bid you greetings, my lords," I said, in my other, truer voice. "This agent has returned successfully. Glory to the Supreme Beings!"

That's right. I remember now. I am grateful for recalling it.

I was not Enri Emmot, citizen of Carne City, and heiress to the legacy of a Jashin armor.

I was an agent of the Supreme Beings, servant in the Great Tomb of Nazarick.

And lo on my welcome rebirth do I say with renewed conviction: Glory to Ainz Ooal Gown!

* * *

 _"There was once a man named Zuran. He was a necromancer. When they caught him practicing his wicked ways, they punished him according to the practice of their time: they cut off his vile hands and tongue, carved out his eyes, then flung him into the deepest dungeons below a holy temple, from where he could not raise his dead._  
 _One day the Supreme Momonga came to that prison, and said to the necromancers buried therein: 'My Boon we shall give you, my Champion I shall make you, if you answer correctly. How shall you serve us, if we free you here?'_  
 _The first necromancer said, 'I will unite the lands and forge the Empire anew. I will spread your name far and wide, that the people shall fear Momonga, greatest of all Supreme.'_  
 _'Glory is a mortal, fleeting thing, and you shall choke on it for the rest of your days,' Momonga replied. And so he took the necromancer's heart, that his pride would no longer torment him._  
 _Then the second necromancer said, 'I shall accumulate knowledge, with your blessing, and become the strongest, wisest magic caster of all. I shall raise temples and spread your wisdom through all the lands.'_  
 _'Fool that you are!' Momonga said, 'To imply that we shall ever be forgotten!' And so he took the necromancer's heart, that his idiocy would not spread throughout the lands._  
 _Finally, Zuran spoke, 'I ask only, blessed Momonga, to tend to the glorious Garden that you have created. Let me be Your instrument. To bring Your embrace to those that deserve it, to nurture life in those that need it. The people shall forever remember you, my lord, not for conquered lands or raised temples, but for the perfectly arranged world You have envisioned for us all: the beautiful Ainz Ooal Gown.'_  
 _Pleased by the answer, Momonga raised Zuran to be the first of the Faithful, and gave him a glimpse of the secrets of Life and Death. He made his body whole and healthy, and charged it with immortality: that for as long as His Garden exists, so shall Zuran continue to maintain it."_  
 _-_ from the _Chronicles of the Forty-One Faithful_


	2. Prologue - part 2

Originally, I was a doppelganger attached to an active combat unit on the fifth floor. As with all my fellows, I had little reason to suspect the upheaval that had undergone the Great Tomb of Nazarick.

It all started when rumors came that the Tomb had been displaced somewhere else. The outside was different, and there were markedly different things to be found. None of us dared to leave the Tomb, for fear of disappointing our Masters.

Time passed, until eventually we were forced to act. Sebas Tian, one of the strongest Guardians, and also one who had the least responsibilities, was commanded by the Overseer to scout out the outside.

It was there that he found the Great Forest, and eventually the city of Carne on the other side. He collected everything he experienced in his notes.

The most notable fact, aside from the fact that this seemed to no longer be the world our Masters had laid Nazarick upon, was that our Masters were essentially worshiped by the native inhabitants here as gods.

To them, they were the "Forty-One Supreme Beings". Sebas observed that they could call upon their names and accomplish strange and powerful feats. Through invoking their names they could heal wounds, or perform magic.

Worst of all, they could even harm a Guardian as powerful as Sebas. According to the reports I gleaned later, Sebas had run afoul of an army outside Carne. He'd gotten into a fight with their Jashins. Sebas held his own, but the Jashin were able to inflict a critical wound. Thankfully, he was able to disengage and escape, returning swiftly back to Nazarick.

The news that the world out there was hostile, and that they could invoke the Masters' names to harm even one of the strongest among us, sent an alarm through the whole tomb. The Overseer ordered a complete lockdown, and heightened alert levels in case Sebas' enemies had tracked them here.

Fortunately nothing came of it. Unfortunately, we still needed information on the outside world. Yet none of the Guardians could be spared, as they were needed to protect the Masters' Tomb. The lesser forces were even more unworthy, as they were judged to be inadequate to the task. For example, the Shadow Demons, though perfect at stealth, were not intelligent enough for complicated tasks, by Lady Albedo's standards.

Finally, the council of Floor Guardians settled on empowering one of the doppelgangers: me.

I was chosen because I was expendable. If I failed, there would be other doppelgangers to replace me. I was also one of the few able to utilize the [Changeling] skill, which allowed me to permanently take the place of the human I intended to duplicate.

I was thus sent out, with these mission parameters to achieve:

To extract an example of the Jashin armor for study in Nazarick.

To gather information on the exact nature of the Supreme Beings in this world.

To acquire information on the surrounding lands.

It was a hefty job, and most of us didn't expect my success. If I did succeed, it would only be after a long period of time. I would not be supported by my fellows, nor would I be assured of survival if I was found out.

It took me a couple of years, but I managed it.

"So this is the so-called Jashin armor..."

We were inside Nazarick, in one of the top floors of the enormous complex crafted by the Supreme Beings. I, along with much of the Floor Guardians, were gathered there, to debrief me.

Lord Demiurge lead the meeting, and bent down to observe the Jashin armor with much interest.

"Looks pretty ugly, are we sure it's strong?" said Aura, frowning.

"It is not to be underestimated," Shalltear Bloodfallen said. "In the hands of a low-level creature it was able to surprise me. I now retract my previous accusation of Sebas; if he were facing veterans wearing these, then I could see how he'd have difficulty."

"Oh, right. And the agent was able to hurt Fenrir with it! Hmm, so maybe it really is strong," the dark elf remarked.

"What else can you tell us about this armor, agent?" came a cool, commanding voice, belonging to the Overseer, the beautiful Albedo. In her hands was the World Item granted her by her Master, which she now used as a gavel to emphasize her words.

I bowed. "The armor was invented some centuries ago by the cult of great Amanomahitotsu. The process is unknown to this very day, the secret guarded jealously by its forge-priests. The armor grants unparalleled strength to the user, though its use to magic-oriented people is questionable at best. Each country is said to have their own Jashins, which they field against each other in battle."

"Part of this so-called process might include the invocation of our lord Amanomahitotsu," Demiurge remarked. He knocked at the black surface of the armor. "At the hands of someone on the level of at least the Pleiades, they would be able to be a match for any of the Floor Guardians alone."

"Surely you jest, Demiurge," Shalltear said. "We are the chosen creations of the Supreme Beings! We shall not fail to these ironclad jesters."

"I do wish I shared your self-assurance," Demiurge remarked airily, with a smirk. He glanced at Albedo. "This makes a full investigation into the armor, including the process of its creation, all the more important."

"So it would seem," Albedo said. I could feel her eyes sweep towards me. "Agent, good work on accomplishing the first part of your mission. Now, were you able to accomplish anything else?"

* * *

It was a bit disconcerting, but the magical "commands" Lord Demiurge and the others used to seal my mind also ingrained in my subconscious certain protocols that would activate upon certain conditions-all without even me being aware I'd done it.

Most important of these was the "go-home" protocol, which made it so I would head home to Nazarick after accomplishing my missions. He told me the protocol had not been activated, as he had not needed to deactivate it. This meant my return was certainly fortuitous, if I hadn't already known that it had been Prince Barbro's armies that had necessitated "Enri Emmot"'s exile.

One other protocol that had been activated without my recalling it was the mandate to bring back knowledge on the role of the Supreme Beings in this world. Unknown to me, before Lord Demiurge deactivated the restriction on my mind, I'd been hoarding tomes and books of lore and worship about the gods and placing them inside a special bag with an expanded storage. In then conveniently forgot about the fact afterwards, making Enri Emmot entirely unaware.

I laid them all out now that Albedo had asked it of me, giving the Floor Guardians the pieces of knowledge I was able to acquire.

Demiurge was the first to examine them, before passing them around to the others in the room. "Here are the _Meditations on Momonga's Garden_... _Epistles to the Good Mother by St. Fillemon_..." I said.

"The Good Mother?" Mare asked.

"Yes, my lord," I said. "It is the mortals' way of calling their so-called 'Three-Faced Goddess', Lady Bukubukuchagama."

"Ehh? But that's crazy. Our Creator isn't three-faced," Aura said, holding the book aloft suspiciously.

I shrugged. The mortals' interpretation of our sovereigns was not part of my mission.

"I. Cannot. Read. This!" The loud, booming voice belonged to Cocytus, who despite his massive glacial form still managed to hide in plain sight among the other Guardians. He held the book close to his head, peering at the pages he leafed through.

I hesitated for a moment, surprised by the revelation, before I realized the truth. I told it to them, "I... I apologize. I did not realize-my doppelganger abilities enabled me to assimilate my target's whole skills and knowledge into myself. Because of that I was unaware that the books were written with an entirely different script-once again, I deeply apologize, my lords. This is a tremendous oversight."

"So you are saying you can read this," Albedo said. I nodded. "And yet you cannot give us the ability to read it ourselves?" I shook my head.

"Oh, I know, let's just keep him here and have him read stuff! Here, agent, read to us about our Creator!" Aura chirped.

"NO. MINE SHALL BE FIRST-!" objected Cocytus, who lunged forward to present the book to me.

"Everyone, stop!" Albedo cried, slamming her weapon against the table. The chatter ceased. "The agent has yet more important things to do."

"Still, the amount of books you were able to bring back is quite impressive in itself," Demiurge remarked. He shrugged. "We do need to be able to read it, to acquire more information, but... hmph, let us table that for later. Now, I believe you had one more mission? Did you manage?"

"Yes."

* * *

No one at Carne knew much about the Old Empire. They only knew that it covered large amounts of land, far greater than the territories of the current countries combined. Humans and humanoid-creatures stood equal here, with demihumans on a more minor role.

"This Empire called itself..." I paused. "Ainz Ooal Gown."

A pensive silence came over my listeners. Even cold Albedo looked taken aback, as if she'd received upsetting news.

What the scholars at Carne did know was that six hundred years ago, the Empire was abruptly destroyed when the Six Evil Lords appeared out of nowhere, and began to preach their own faiths, to oppose the long-established religion. These six were themselves powerful, and seemed to be able to defy the Supreme Beings' power. Nevertheless, the Dreadful Six were defeated by a grand coalition, and their threat ended. Unfortunately, the last heir of the Empire died during that crisis, and its territories then soon divvied up by the local lords in the civil war that ensued.

For nearly a century, there was a period of unmitigated chaos. Territories changed hands as easily as cards on a table. Bandits became kings, kings became beggars, beggars became bandits. Famine and desperation fueled the engines of war, which devastated the land even further. It was here that the True Faith, the faith that believed in the full pantheon of the Forty-One, splintered. No longer constrained by Imperial authority, various cults rose to prominence. Ones devoted to this or that god, to a set of only this god or some other while excluding the rest, and so on. This laid the foundation for the modern day subdivision of the Supreme Beings' worship in this world.

"That is foolish of the mortals," Shalltear remarked. "There are Forty-One, no more no less. They must all be given their utmost devotion, or one disrespects the Creators in all."

"Indeed. But it is not yet our place to correct them of their folly," Albedo said. "Continue, agent."

Five hundred years ago, incredibly powerful beings appeared. They were the Eight Greed Kings. They swiftly conquered the lands, uniting it for the first time in a century under one banner. However, friction arose when the Dragon Lords, long thought dead, chose that time to strike. The War of Fire brought several calamities on an already tortured land. And to fuel the flames, the Eight Greed Kings sought to purge the belief in the Forty-One, calling them "frauds" and "posers", terms which were unfamiliar to the world. Eventually, a group known as the Faithful led a rebellion against the Greed Kings while they were preoccupied with the dragon lords. Channeling the Supreme Beings' power, they fought hard against both sides. When the dust settled, the Greed Kings had been eradicated (except for their former capital of Eryuentia) and the Dragon Lords decimated, their meager remnants forced to retreat to the remote places of the world.

From out of the ashes rose small kingdoms, a few of which would endure through the centuries to the modern day. There was the Re-Estize Kingdom, which fell from grace some hundred and fifty years past, the Arwintar Confederation which became the Baharuth Empire, and the Slaine Theocracy, founded by the only surviving Faithful, Zuran the Founder. Belief in the gods were said to have surged in this period, spurred on by the Faithful's successful overthrow of both their tyrannical leaders and the Dragon Lords. Centuries passed, then, in relative stability, aided by the Supreme Beings' blessings. Though nations rose and fell, were devoured, conquered, waned-the upheaval never grew to the scale of the centuries before. Two hundred years ago, the Demon Lords appeared to threaten the peace, and yet the Thirteen Heroes rose to challenge them handily.

"Today, we are within the Great Forest of Tob, now called the Dread Forest because of our continued presence. To the south are the elven territories and the Slaine Theocracy. North is the Union of Free Cities, which has Carne as its capital. Though that may soon end, if the nearby Archduchy has its way. Southwest is the Roble Holy Kingdom, which borders the sea. To the north of it beyond the sea is the Agrand Council State, a nation jointly ruled by both humans and demihumans. To the east of the Archduchy is the Baharuth Empire, which has just recently vassalized the City-State Alliance, its neighbor. Further beyond the Empire's borders are nations belonging to various demihuman tribes and clans, to which no human has ever ventured."

"We shall need a transcript of everything you know about these nations," Demiurge said.

I cocked my head. "My pardons, my lord, but aside from knowing what I know through my victim's memories, I have no intimate knowledge of these nations. My protocols never went that far."

Demiurge clucked his tongue. He glanced over at Albedo, who had a pensive look on her face. "... Yes. On second thought, it is understandable. It would have taken far longer than two years if you'd had to go to these places."

"Hey, hey, now that the boring part's done, I kind of want to be able to read this, please! Why don't we send the little agent to find it out for us?" asked Aura.

"I, TOO, DESIRE TO READ," Cocytus said, still staring at the tome which bore his Creator's name.

"Yes, yes, the whole tomb wants to read," Shalltear said, sounding irate. "I do, however, wish for us to focus on the threat of the armor first. Perhaps I should accompany the agent on the next outing, so I may test myself against these 'Jashin'?"

"No," came the response, from both Albedo and Demiurge, at the same time. Shalltear jerked, surprised to be double-teamed. After a beat, she lifted her head in defiance, though remained silent.

"There shall be no unneeded excursions outside the Tomb, as it would leave Nazarick undefended," Albedo said firmly.

"I agree wholeheartedly," Demiurge said. "Especially you, Shalltear, who have been tasked by the lords to be our first line of defense. Quite frankly, I'm surprised you even suggested it.

"The information the agent has brought has only solidified the need for us to remain vigilant at all times. If there is to be a return outside for anything, it must be after a careful evaluation of the goals, balanced by the risks and returns." He looked around the room. "No one wants the agent to return empty-handed, nor less fail to return at all."

The others murmur their understanding; Shalltear, however, said, "Then what, exactly, is our plan now, oh Great Schemer? Have you and this Overseer got a little scheme brewing in your lovely little heads?"

"We shall discuss that later," Albedo said, matching Shalltear's fearless, almost fanatical gaze evenly. "For now, I believe we can let the agent rest."

I did not need the rest. However, "My lords, I ask permission for an audience with the Supreme Beings." The petition was directed at Albedo most of all, who had the authority to grant it.

"You may," Albedo said. "Consider it your reward, agent." She and the others filtered from the room, leaving the books behind. Well, all except Lord Mare.

Lord Mare approached hesitantly, once all the others had left. "Um... agent, there's something I need to tell you."

I bowed. "At your command, my lord."

"Um... here... **[Weiss]**."

I blinked, suddenly realizing that Mare had disappeared. There was a faint ringing in my ears. I shook my head, puzzled. The room was just as I recalled-the pile of books I'd brought back sitting there. But hadn't Mare just been talking to me? Where had he gone?

I move to touch my head, only to realize I was holding something in my hand. It was a small object, one which I struggled to identify at first. Then, the memories I shared with Enri Emmot stirred, and I recalled this was a type of shell found at the sea, a "conch shell" used for decoration. The spiraling shape of its surface was a polished ebony, with white highlights spread lightly throughout.

Why do I have this then? I wondered. I hadn't seen it before. And where had I gotten it? This seemed strange. I should ask Lord Mare about it later. For now I've an appointment with the "gods".

* * *

When we first came to this place, we feared to intrude upon the Supreme Beings in their meeting. It was akin to a heresy in the outside world to even consider oneself worthy to stand in their presence.

After a long period of bickering, we persuaded Albedo, who held the highest authority in all of Nazarick, to enter. If the Supreme Beings were displeased at even her entrance, then the matter was settled-the Word was final.

Not too long after, the Overseer came out, and she bid us enter. Her face was stoic and cold, but worry furrowed her brows, or so it was described to me down the grapevine. The rest of the Guardians entered, and found within a bewildering sight.

The Forty-One Supreme Beings were all seated around the massive table. Everyone of them was accounted for. That would not be strange-if not for the fact that time seemed to have stopped in the chamber. The Supreme Beings were frozen in whatever action they were doing before time inexplicably stopped: some pointing, some holding out their hands, turning their head to their neighbors, and so on. Most telling of these was the great Momonga, Guildmaster, who was the only one standing among the rest. His clenched fist was raised, as if he were challenging something unseen. In his other hand he carried the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown, which glowed like the sun.

For however long we prostrated, spoke, petitioned-our voices could not seem to reach them. They responded to none of what we did or said. They remained frozen, like statues, and yet we knew these were not mere facsimiles, like those found within the Treasury. We knew these were our lords, though they were silent and unmoving.

After realizing we could do nothing to make them stir, thoughts then turned towards protecting them. That had been the prime edict they'd imbued into everyone within this Tomb, and we'd be damned if we ever lapsed. The initial lockdown took effect here, a short while before the Guardians let Sebas Tian leave on that fateful scouting mission.

Over time the chamber was turned into something like a hallowed sanctuary. Albedo laid down emergency protocols which turned the area surrounding the chamber into the "heart" of Nazarick, instead of the Throne Room where the Pleiades were assigned. All the Guardians sent their elites to guard the area, and it became one of the more impregnable areas in all of Nazarick.

Those who wished to enter the new "sanctuary" were to petition Albedo. Depending on her mood and her opinion of you, she would freely reject the petition. Many of us worked to please the Overseer in whatever way we could.

And succeeding in this important mission was surely worth more than anything. If Albedo had refused, I'd have been quite upset.

The present sentinels lining the halls before the sanctuary greeted me silently as I passed. It seemed they already knew of Albedo's approval. Halfway through, a helpful imp, one of Demiurge's subordinates, helped guide me around the death-traps that had been laid out on the floor. Then, I stood before the great doors leading to the Supreme Beings. It looked like there were no guards, but the elite guards were actually there, hiding in plain sight for all but the most powerful creatures.

The massive doors opened, allowing me entry. A hush came over me as I stepped onto what I believed to be sacred ground. I bowed my head subconsciously, ready to bow and grovel if the Masters demanded it.

The personality I melded with, Enri Emmot, began to clash with mine. Hers was the healthy fear of the gods, and in this place "I" and "she" would be practically standing before those very same gods that she'd been taught to worship from a young age. I stood there for a while, basking in the united emotions of my two personalities, each way and fearful of being in the presence of such august beings.

When first I saw their eminent forms huddled around the vast table, tears came to my eyes. There were the forms "she" had prayed to; here were the masters "I" had yet to see. Each and every one were a wonder so great I felt I could be blinded by their combined brilliance. I fell to the ground, tears falling from my face. For the first time, in a long time, I felt safe in here, like a babe being taken into the arms of a loved one.

"I bid you my most humble greetings, my lords," I said, with trembling voice, my words breaking the silence in that chamber. I cringed, fearing the inevitable reprimand, the imperious hand striking the errant servant. A part of me even hoped, prayed, for such a thing.

Alas, there was nothing. My heart fell, even as I logically understood that there was nothing I could do.

I raised my head. For a long time I contemplated each and every one of their forms, burning them into my memory so I would never forget. Who knows how long it would take until I could return here-or that I'd return at all? My memories as Enri Emmot had only solidified the belief that the future was never set in stone. Her unfortunate demise was certainly an example of that.

I stayed there on the ground for a good long while. I was as reverent as any worshiper of Touch Me in the Temple, meditating for hours just for the chance of a blessing from the god of justice. I looked and saw lord Touch Me in the flesh, sitting at the table across from where I was. The true incarnation was nothing like what the mortals envisioned: they described him as a giant who could stride over two mountains, sometimes having wings of gold that stretched from horizon to horizon; or as a being wreathed in a silvery cloud. They only got the silver armor right, and yet to the true part of myself lord Touch Me was no less intimidating in the flesh.

That went for all the other Supreme Beings here. Punitto Moe, the ultimate gainsayer of the Game, who would make cities rise and fall by his judgment. The Entangler of Wills, he was described as a shapeshifter, a faceless being one did not notice in the crowd, silently judging the plotter or the schemer. Yet here he was, a being of animated vines, pointing one bundle of them at another Being across the room.

Fertile Peroroncino, described by some beastmen tribes to have a female aspect; was a tall bird-creature here, leaning on his elbows like he were bored. Amanomahitotsu, Bestower of the Jashin Secrets, a being manifesting as steel; here was entirely innocuous-looking. Bukubukuchagama, the Goddess with Three Aspects; here just a great slime.

I realized with a jolt that the only one the mortals got right was Lord Momonga himself; and here he seemed every bit the Overlord of Death as he should be. He was the Guildmaster of Ainz Ooal Gown, with a will so powerful he could bind every other one in the table to himself. And here in this chamber he showed his rightful place: standing and raising his hand where the others just sat, looming over them like the shadow of death upon the world. I felt a chill staring at his skeletal face, and to me it seemed like he were looking right at me, though I knew it was just the effect of his empty eye-sockets.

 _Ah, but that was surely an unworthy thought..!_ I bowed my head in shame. _Forgive me, Lord Momonga!_

I spent the next moments in utter silence, as apology. I mired myself in my own thoughts. Barely a day has passed since I'd lost the shell of Enri Emmot that had been my reality for almost two years. Depending on what the higher ups decided, I may be going for more. It was my duty, and I would do it gladly to help keep the Masters safe.

My wandering thoughts came back to the mysterious shell-like object. I took it out and examined it with a frown. If it were some keepsake of Mare's, then he should have said so before disappearing like that. I opened my Eye to see if I could analyze it.

Something exploded.

Many voices filled the room, all spoken so fast I could understand none of them. But I could not even stop to try to hear them, as a loud booming gale had swept through the room, like a hurricane.

My Divine Eye burned as a great fire seemed to spread from it in a line and connected itself to the object in my hand. Then, from one end of the shell burst forth hundreds of glimmering filaments, each spreading through the room like so many small puppet strings. The object vibrated in my hand; though I tried to drop it, it seemed to stick to my palm, like an iron hot brand seared to my palm.

The pain in my Eye became agony. It was as if someone had dripped acid onto it. My features morphed, my doppelganger form unable to hold against such intense sensations.

"Oi! What's going on in there!"

"Summon the Guardians, quickly!"

This was worse than anything Enri Emmot felt during her monthly bleeding. I felt as if something were being crammed into my head without my permission. Each seemed as large as boulders. And I had to withstand them, again and again. But there came a point where the pain was too much to endure, even for me.

A thunderous sound came from behind. "What is the meaning of this?" I heard the Overseer say.

"Uwaah! That's a really big storm in there!" said Aura.

"Thankfully, it does not seem that the Supreme Beings have been affected..." said Demiurge.

"What is going on with the agent?" asked Shalltear. "That thing in its hand..."

"Help!" I cried. "Please help me, my lords!"

"Hm? What is going on, agent?" asked Demiurge.

"Get away from there at once!" Albedo said.

"I...c-can't! Too... strong!" Even as I said this, the force exerting on my body seemed to double, and double, and double. It was difficult to hold on, and my mind felt like I could be swept away in just a second's notice.

I felt hands of different shapes and sizes seize my body and pull. Yet for however much they strained, they could not move me at all.

"It... is... heavy...!" said a guard.

"Whatever could you mean? Do we really have to do your duties for you?" Albedo said.

"I. WILL. LEND. MY. STRENGTH." Cocytus said.

"As will I," said Demiurge. "Pleiades, support us!"

"Yes!" came voices unknown to me.

With the additional efforts of the Guardians I could feel their stronger pull. But the magic swirling through the room was stronger by far. Unknown to them it was the power of the gods.

 _I have to end this_ , I thought. I could not bear the pain anymore, particularly in my eye. I closed it, deactivating the Divine Eye. There was a huge boom, like thunder rolling through the clouds. A great whooshing sound followed, after which the great winds inside the chamber ceased, as if they had never been.

Voices then shouted in my head, as if they were coming from within my mind.

[Learned spell: Grasp Heart!]

[Acquired class: Speaker for the Supreme, Level One!]

[Error: Due to the current status, Speaker for the Supreme Class cannot be activated.]

The voices disappeared, and I slumped to the ground, exhausted.

Everyone in the room was gasping for breath. Not a moment passed before Albedo said, with fierce, trembling voice, "What is going on? What have you done, agent?"

I turned around, and felt a chill run through my body. Nearly every one of the Guardians were here, along with the elite guards. Even the Pleiades were here. And all of them stared at me with varying degrees of hostility and anger, like I were considered an intruder to the tomb.

I opened my mouth to explain, to speak my side. However, before I could even do that, something else happened.

The shell in my hand vibrated, and from it issued a voice we had not heard in a long while.

 **"Have a seat, everyone! The meeting shall come to order!"**

My knees slammed into the floor halfway through the message. All around me the others did the same, falling to their knees and bowing. Even Albedo prostrated herself, before she did a double-take and stared suspiciously at me.

"Yes, Lord Momonga!"

It was indeed lord Momonga's voice that had come, inexplicably from within the shell. Instinctively I glanced behind me, wondering if it had come from Momonga personally, but I saw he was still locked in his frozen position. And the voice had definitely emanated from my hand.

"Wh-what was that?" Aura asked. "Was that really Lord Momonga?"

"Agent! Explain!" Albedo barked. "Is this your doing?"

"No, Overseer!" I hastily replied. "But it definitely came from this shell here."

"That insignificant thing? Surely you must be joking. Unless you're daring to insinuate that the Supreme Beings are inside it?"

"I cannot explain it myself," I protested hotly. "But I have only reported what I've seen."

Before Albedo could explode, Demiurge stepped in smoothly. "Surely the matter can be easily verified. Everyone did hear Lord Momonga, yes?" A murmur of assent came from all around. "Then it is not just a case of us hearing things. Next, we are trying to verify if this is a fabrication. Well, I do not claim to know the workings of the Supreme Beings, but it may be possible that this agent had been gifted by them with the skill to imitate their speech. But the agent claims it comes from the shell. Therefore, the solution is simple. Let us bind the agent, locking him from using his skills, while we then see if the shell has anything more to say. Does that not sound reasonable, everyone?"

Demiurge's suggestion was accepted all around, save for a reluctant Albedo. I was promptly placed in a stasis spell by one of the elite guards, while Demiurge took the shell in hand.

"How does it work?" Aura asked.

"Activate!" Demiurge said. Nothing happened.

"PERHAPS. AGENT. IS. NEEDED," Cocytus ventured.

"No, that would defeat the purpose of this examination."

"Maybe... try asking it directly?" Mare wondered.

"Directly? Like it were a living thing? Hn." Demiurge looked at the shell. He hesitated, and then said, "My lord Ulbert, please enlighten us."

After a moment of nothing, the others slumped in disappointment. But then came Lord Ulbert's voice, clear as day: **"I have no time for this. Make your decisions yourselves."**

My eyes widened in wonder, as, I suspect, did everyone's, our gazes fixed upon the shell. Then, tears came from Mare's eyes, while some of the Pleiades dabbed cloths into their own. Demiurge replied in the affirmative to his Creator, with shaky voice.

"Heyy~~ What's going on! I heard the emergency and came running all the way..." Shalltear's arrival went unacknowledged. "Hm? What's going on? Why are you all staring at that insignificant trinket?"

"IT. IS. NOT. IT. IS. THE. SUPREME BEINGS. SHALLTEAR," Cocytus said.

"I beg your pardon? The Supreme Beings? How can that be?"

"Shalltear, ask of the trinket a question," Demiurge said, with an enigmatic smile. The vampire frowned, as if wondering if there was some trick.

She looked at the shell and said, "Are you really the Supreme Beings?"

 **"Ahh... that's a good idea. I think I'll use that with Shalltear,** " came lord Peroroncino's voice.

Shalltear's knees buckled, as she desperately mashed a handkerchief to her face, for blood had inextricably come streaming out her nose. "L-Lord Creator!" she sighed, her voice muffled.

For the whole day, and for some days later, the whole Tomb celebrated. The Supreme Beings had deigned to speak to them, at last, after a long vigil. Though their bodies had not yet moved in that chamber, the fact that they spoke to them at all was already enough.

Little did I know that it was only the start.

* * *

 _"...And thus the Keeper of the Black Scripture visited the doom of the Whispering God, of the cunning Bellriver, upon the besieged heretics._  
 _But the circle of plagues was not complete; for it needed the admonition of the fourth Trouble, and yet His worship was anathema to all the armies present. The accursed Theocracy's man was yet a day's ride away._  
 _Yet before the Sun's set there came the sound of trumpets from the southern hills, and from there rode a host of Beast-Men, with the Blacksage Murantshin riding in front. Black was his mane, his steed a fiery-haired stag, and upon his standard was the image of the fourth Trouble, whom we could not call._  
 _And thus the Blacksage, reading from a great stone tablet carried by two mountain trolls, pronounced the judgment of Ulbert Alain Odle, condemning the heretical city for its fallen ways._  
 _With that, the circle was complete, and there arose from all four corners of the battlefield a surge of wind, so strong it blew away some of the soldiers' caps. Some swore to have heard laughter in the wind, like the baying of many drunken men._  
 _When in the next hour great, black storm clouds brewed on the horizon, our lord commander bid us withdraw, for it was clear that the noose had tightened, and the gods had come to visit their wrath upon the heretics, through the malicious, chaotic powers of the Four Troublesome Gods..."_  
-An Accounting of the Fall of the Heretical City

* * *

 **Shurpuff says: This was originally a lot of different ideas, blended together. The one idea I was iffy about, was adding "gamer-like" aspects to the story, which I was able to compromise as you read it just now. Readers of _Godsfall_ will recognize the 'bring all the Supreme Beings' idea, even if the actual result is drastically different from envisioned.  
**

 **In the end, I hope I have entertained, and made y'all look forward to the next.  
**

 **I intend this story to be quite a bit different from the rest. Starting a chapter from now, it will become a sort of narrative adventure story, with readers able to decide by vote on how the story will go. The details will be explained further in the upcoming chapter itself.**

 **I also have a P atreon now, if interested; readers of _Godsfall_ will surely enjoy reading the latest chapters and drafts. Thanks, and have a nice day!**


	3. Miscellany

**Shurpuff here: Dumping here some of the writing notes I'd made for the story, in the form of completed excerpts. As stated this was expected to be some form of CYOA for a pool of readers, but it was hard to establish a good framework for the whole thing.  
**

 **Have a nice day!**

* * *

 **Shun ever the names of the Six Demigods, who sought to challenge the Forty-One.**  
-from Doctrines of Heresy, by Illuminary Jeanne-Marie

* * *

 _ **Grasp Heart** (Necromancy)(Range: 60 Feet)(Time: Instant)(Agility negated)(Duration: 10 minutes)_  
The most basic spell granted to aspiring acolytes of Zuranon, the caster connects a dark, sinister limb to his target's heart. On successful hit, the limb is "anchored" to the heart for a certain duration, and will require breaking the caster's focus to dispel or the use of certain spell-breaking abilities or spells. At any time that the limb is connected, the caster may focus his energy to squeeze the target's heart using the dark limb. The heart is squeezed irresistibly until it is no longer identified as a focal target by the spell; that is, until it is no longer recognized as a "heart".  
The target feels as if a chill akin to Momonga's silent finger had brushed against his heart, and thus recognizes the fatal threat he faces. This is an apt time for the acolyte to negotiate, or otherwise use the target for whatever means.  
The spell will always target a "heart" for it to connect. In the rare case of a target without any feasible definition of a "heart" (such as a divine construct, or certain types of undead), the spell fails. (Addendum: Certain incorporeal undead have been known to possess "hearts" for the spell to connect to, it is recommended to study the list of confirmed Grasp Heart targets to better prepare oneself.)

* * *

 **The New Face of War**

Only a few have ever seen them: like tall, forbidding golems they stride across the battlefield, swifter than a gazelle and as impervious as dragon's scales. But these are not constructs made by ambitious Casters, but actual, human knights, clad in the wondrous black armor that has become more and more a fixture of international warfare. Suddenly hordes of peasant levies firing barrages of weak spell-fire is nothing more than chaff to be swept aside by these soldiers. Thus do these "Jashin" enter the fray, tromping forward on boots of impenetrable steel.

Alone, the titan can withstand a whole cavalry charge by veteran knights, and can leap fearlessly into the fray of a thousand gleaming swords. The only recourse of any country against such a threat, is to bring out their own titans. It is a wonder to witness, as the two dark shapes collide against each other, using their fists to pummel and break the other's armor.

Their objective-to reach over and destroy the warmachine's only conventional weakness-the Weight-glyph on its lower back. Without its support, the armor will be too much for the person inside to bear, ending in a defeat by the armor's crushing weight.

The Jashin are called by many other names, and are eacch painstakingly crafted by the Cult of Amanomahitsu, which remains neutral in the Great Game. The armor costs a small nation to commission, and that is why even the Baharuth Empire is rumored to only have a few of these warmachines. By themselves, the armored ones can tip the scale of a battle. Should the Cult be given a reason to produce these objects at an increased pace, we may just see a new brand of warfare in our lifetimes.

* * *

 **The State of the Draconic Breed, Chapter 1**

In the distant age, long before humanity rose to become the masters of the known world, the dragons were said to rule over the primordial age. They were the first denizens to live in this sacred world that the Forty-One gods forged. They were, however, too prideful and greedy to be of use to the gods, refusing to worship them as was their right as Creators. And so the Gods were said to have descended, and lead armies of our ancestors to exterminate them.  
Strong are the dragons we see today, glutted with magic and wisdom-but stronger still were their ancestors, whose wings could cover up an entire plain in eternal dark. But our Gods were mightier still, and led us to victory time and again. In those days, it was said that the Warrior Takemikazuchi delighted in the hunting of the wyrms-for he wrestled them from their aeries high in the sky, or routed them from their lairs deep in the ground, laughing all the while. The fearless Order of Dragonslayers is thus devoted to that powerful war god, and has been just as successful in defeating the dragonic when it was needed. When the dust was settled, peace was finally enforced. As the Gods taught us their Magic to counter their Wild Magic, the dragons were left with too few of a number to amass in such a way ever again. Thus, the Gods left us to tend their garden, and from then on Humanity has advanced.

* * *

 **To Be a Responsible Witness to Lord Momonga, 21**

One need not be a follower of Zuranon's grand tradition to accept the Overlord Momonga's eternal gaze into our lives. One must always keep in mind the single, most important truth that the liars of the Slaine Theocracy have spread: Lord Momonga is not an uncaring god, but a just and loving god, who watches over the Forty-One's creation like a farmer does his land.

In this comparison he is the head of the household, the hardest and hardiest of the workers there, who rises at the earliest hint of dawn and retires at the latest patch of dusk. For he is God of Death as well as the Overlord of Ainz Ooal Gown, and thus he presides over that dread function which all of humanity rightly fears. Death is the domain which none but the most peaceful ever enter with glad hearts, and already there have been many who wished to cheat Momonga, to forestall the final judgment with spell and trickery.

It is the duty of Zuranon to root out and destroy these abominations, but that does not mean those who are outside of our order cannot help! Undeath is a universal plague on every nation, and thus must be approached with the same zeal as that of an eternal enemy. Take care to report any suspicious necromantic activities, while making sure to distinguish those from we who actually belong to Zuranon. You will recognize Zuranon by the copper masks we wear, as the metal is offensive to the undead not chosen by Our Lord. Yes, lend your knowledge and expertise to even the zealots from Touch Me's sanctum. For though they would deny it, our goals align.

Undeath is a privilege, not a right, and should only be reserved by those blessed by the Almighty Momonga.

* * *

 **Communing with the Holy Ones of the Beastmen Tribes, Book 2, Chapter 3**

The Katanjec are infamous for their pestilential threat to the northern hinterlands of the Baharuth Empire. Raids of these bird-men fly at odd hours to ravage unsuspecting villages, carrying off goods, trinkets, and even poor humans, all to feed their ravenous hunger. At Trebasik, home to these bird-man hybrids, I found their local head-shaman Goloyurith. The good sage was able to understand my work, and was much enthusiastic in conveying his race's spiritual faith to me, despite the rampant misgivings of his fellow people, who eyed me as a potential substitute for dinner.  
The feather-shawled beastman ushered me inside his shrine, only stopping me from entering the depths of the rancid-smelling tent closer than the small altar they had constructed. Predictably, there is the horned effigy of the Beastmen's Patron: Ulbert Alain Odle. Around the base, there are offerings and carved fetishes which seem to be devoted to the other gods, or perhaps to "gods" of the Katanjec's own invention.  
What interested me, though, was the fashioned image of the Triune Goddess Bukubukuchagama, instead of the expected effigies of her eminent brother, the Winged Striker, Peroroncino.  
When I asked, the Katanjec shaman laughed, and pointed me towards the many eggshells strewn across the base of the shrines.  
"To the man-things, yes, the Winged God rules, but here we rebuke him. Demon of Lust we call him, for disaster came upon Katanjec, when through His blessing we bred too much for our hungers to sate. And then we were forced to war with the other beastmen. We were near to be wiped out, except for one final nest, protected by the grace of the Old Shrieker. That is why we worship her now, not her dread brother. Yet most of all we fear and worship the Demonfather, who will usher in an age of plenty, where we need not fear hunger ever again. Remember that, human, on the day the Katanjec falls on your cities in numbers uncountable."

* * *

 **Excerpt from chapter "His Ascendance"**

They all stared at him with hostile eyes. Some were calculating, like fishermen considering the haul he'd brought back to shore, and measuring it against his family's survival. Among their number were the dwarves, steady but uneasy allies of the Empire, the diverse representatives from the City-State Alliance, or the earnest troupe of paladins from the Holy Kingdom.

Others were cold, distant, like cream-topped mountain peaks in the far distance-tall and untouchable. These included the likes of the sneering emissaries from the Re-Estize Grand Duchy, the tall, hulking armored frames of the Forge-Priests of Amanomahitotsu, or the Draconic Kingdom's people, whose faces were always difficult to read.

Still others were stormy and wrathful, as if bearing the grudge of a thousand lifetimes. That would belong to those beastmen tribes he'd invited here to this gathering; they who would never forget that it was a human hand that brought them low, thousands of years past. Some others were angry at Jircniv himself, for it was through Jircniv's recent decrees that many of the Empire's beastmen were forced to abandon their lives and flee to the margins.

Still other eyes were calm and mocking, like parents self-assuredly watching a child put on a show. The elven ambassadors from their distant kingdoms, the chattel-lords whose kind Jircniv had purged early in his reign, or the members of the Sunlight Scripture, whose demeanor was at odds with their superior Cardinal Dominic, whose expression was nonetheless hidden behind his snarling, copper mask.

Predators. Yes. Those were the gazes of predators all around. Already they glance at the other representatives, weighing them as all predators are wont to do. Jircniv wondered if it was a good thing that he aspired to become the biggest predator here.

"Preposterous," someone said, a so-called minor lord from the Grand Duchy. "You wish to reclaim the title of King-Emperor? By what right do you push your claim to that ancient, hollow title?"

"Indeed," came the mellow, bass voice of Cardinal Dominic. "Such a thing, sad as it is to consider, has already met its end during the Empire's dissolution long ago. But you know this, I assume, my lord. Or Lord Fluder has been much remiss in your education."

Jircniv glanced openly at his teacher, confindante, and Court Mage. The elder's great, bushy eyebrows twitched, acknowledging the Cardinal's words. But he remained silent, and did not answer the barb.

"If there is anyone who could be rightfully called the King-Emperor," one of the paladins stated, "It is our very own Queen Calca, who is descended from King-Emperor Dayo Nobuhiro's youngest daughter."

 _And according to the laws of the Old Empire, she would never have been able to inherit_ , Jirniv thought, but allowed the Cardinal to speak that fact out loud instead. Instead he turned his attention, subtly, to the expected objection from the Grand Duchy's camp, which came right as the Cardinal finished.

"If we are talking rights, then of course we of the Kingd-the Grand Duchy have the greater claim." He glanced around, as if daring anyone to question him. "We hold the ancient capital, and are proud to have it endure for all this time."

"Bricks and stones," someone said, in a voice so deep and unearthly it could have come from the far edges of a dark and stormy night. "Worthless words and claims," the representative from Zuranon continued. The lich, garbed in austere, but no less resplendent clothes, turned his skeletal visage towards Jircniv. The Emperor willed himself to look into the burning fires within the empty sockets, confident that every royal talisman he had on him could protect against a devotee of Momonga, if he ever turned treacherous.

"We who care not for the trivialities of your little sand-kingdoms are losing our patience," the lich continued. "Why have you summoned us here, Emperor Jircniv, if not to test and see if it is impossible to earn our ire?"

There came a dull thunk of a stave being slammed against the floor. All eyes turned towards the Forge-Priest, whose form was as of an armored statue given life. Devotees of the forge-God Amanomahitotsu, and jealous keepers of His great secrets. Yearly the Empire, and everyone else who desired to keep an upper hand in warfare, paid their tributes to the cult, just so they would not withdraw their favors. "Time, Emperor Jircniv, is Precious. I concur with the priest of Momonga-what is our purpose here?"

His own citizens, the high priests from the local shrines, as well as the devotees present from the Slaine Theocracy, wished to speak; but he and the Cardinal had made it clear to them that they were not to stir up a debate. Zuranon was already a dangerous entity by itself, whose members had all been given dubious blessings by the Chief God of Ainz Ooal Gown, the Overlord of Death. Fluder may condemn them in private as much as he liked for turning to undeath just to "cheat", but even the less devoted among the people learned to keep a healthy dread for Lord Momonga, the only one powerful enough to shackle all the myriad, troublesome Forty-One Gods together. If Zuranon had His favor, then no one would dare disagree.

The Forge-Priests were also a major factor to always consider. They had once served as the Old Empire's official cult for Lord Amanomahitotsu, but since the fall had changed their stance to providing their wondrous craft to anyone who needed it, even the beastmen tribes or the demihuman nations. Their inventions had advanced warfare so much that entire countries could be buried under dust if they did not pay their tributes to the Blacksmith's aides. Even the dwarves, whose patron god was the Blacksmith himself, was forced to pay tribute to them to keep up with their almost explosive rate of technological advances.

"My fellow rulers, great eminences, humbled am I to serve you as my honored guests. Believe me when I say that I vow on my life, by Lord Momonga's name-" He caught a flash of something like anger in the Zuranon lich's eyes, but there was also a hint of respect-to swear on Momonga's name was dangerous only if the oath would not be fulfilled. "-that if falsehoods drip from my lips on this austere, but pressing meeting, then may He flay my soul from my body, and name me and my own Liars from here on. So let it be."

He looked around at the assembly, who said nothing. So far, the Cardinal's suggestion of using the name of the greatest of the Supreme Beings was bearing fruit. "I wish to reclaim the title of King-Emperor of Ainz Ooal Gown," he continued. "And I shall do so, by invoking the Trial of the Forty-One."

The noisome hubbub expected to come from those who saw the title as their own sputtered out, quickly replaced by a noisome buzzing, as words began to drift through the representatives like pestilential locusts. Even his own citizens, the high priests, were taken aback by his declaration.

"A Trial?" said one of the beast-men, speaking in his guttural rendition of Human-speech. "You, a human, would dare put yourself into Lord Ulbert's cunning gaze?" It was a good question, as outside of the beastmen, only the Theocracy held the god Ulbert as a god to be worshiped. Otherwise he was treated as taboo along with the other troublemaker gods by the human nations. The beastmen, who saw in the god's sneering goat face an idol, unanimously took him up as their patron god above even Momonga, and wove heretical tales and songs to raise up the god as a protector of freedom and the Wild Things against Momonga's rigid tyranny.

"I will, good sir," Jircniv said calmly. "I do not make this declaration lightly. It was said that the first King-Emperor was blessed by the Forty-One themselves, before he founded the Old Empire. And to gain their favor he endured the test from each and every one of them. From Yamaiko the Wise to Luci*fer the Cruel; from the just protector Touch Me, to the Lord of Upheaval, Ulbert Alain Odle. I shall do the same, and become King-Emperor, or I shall die trying."

The beastman laughed, a sound like rocks bashing against each other. "So you say, human. Let us see if your pathetic soul can withstand such a thing."

"Or your mind..." hissed the heretofore silent representative from the Lithids, the Holy Kingdom's mysterious neighbors who lived in their underwater cities, their heads like octopi, and their intellects more than a match for any human-as was fitting for devotees of the Scholar Tabula Smaragdina. "...We shall look forward to your mental fortitude, Emperor Jircniv."

He glanced at Fluder, who motioned subtly with his cane, a signal for his own citizens to finally speak.

"Your righteousness shall be tested indeed," spoke the representative from the Church of Touch Me.

"As will your compassion," said the High Priestess of She-of-Three-Aspects, Bukubukuchagama.

One after another, the others chimed in, declaring themselves speakers for their gods. Only the Grand Duchy, the Holy Kingdom, and the elves did not speak. The latter worshipped Yamaiko's kin, formed by a heretical notion that their progenitor elf-goddess was a forty-second Supreme Being named Akemi. Jircniv, following orthodoxy, would not expect words from them, nor would he be expected to endure the so-called Akemi's judgement.

"In the name of the Forty-One, who are One," said the Cardinal, speaking the official stance of the Theocracy. "And on behalf of my brothers and sisters who could not be here, I admonish you, Jircniv Falord El Nix, for your stubborn pride in seeing yourself equal to your betters. But," the Cardinal continued in his booming voice, "We see your earnestness, and see no reason to deny the skeins of destiny, which only the Forty-One can foretell. Should you succeed in your trials, then the Slaine Theocracy will personally grant you the title of King-Emperor, and anoint you, and bestow upon your head the Broken Crown of the Last Emperor."

There was a gasp, particularly from the Imperial remnants with their own claims. The Slaine Theocracy had their own claim, the crown passed by Emperor Nobuhiro on his deathbed to his confessor, who'd founded the Theocracy and led the successful rebellion that toppled the Six Renegade Gods. The story was told that Nobuhiro refused to grant his crown, and the title of succession, to his son, who had declared for the Renegades; and had pleaded for the Theocracy to safeguard the crown until a worthy one stepped forth.

"I am humbled, my lord," said Jircniv. As previously discussed, he bowed on one knee for everyone present to see, accepting whatever blessing the Cardinal might give, even if none were coming.

"We shall see if you are indeed worthy of the Supreme Beings' favor," the Cardinal said in dismissal. Jircniv smiled-inside his heart. Oh yes, it would certainly be a challenge to undergo Forty-One trials. But the pieces were already in place. Before the year ended, he would be crowned King-Emperor, and his work would then begin.

"I do not know what you have planned, Emperor," the lich from Zuranon told him, his voice a quiet rumble. "But know that lord Momonga's justice is swiftest and most just, and though however tests you pass under the Supreme, it is His ultimate judgment that will see your ambitions exalted, or end a broken rubble. Do not forget that the eyes of Momonga are always upon you, and his Scales are ever ready to claim you."

* * *

 **Jircniv Crowned King-Emperor**

 _Midday, Wensdei Baharuth Empire, Imperial Capital_

Millions gathered today to witness what is being hailed in the Baharuth Empire as the "crowning moment of our nation". Emperor Jircniv Farlord El-Nix, known to most as the Blood Emperor, has been anointed the "King-Emperor of Ainz" by Hierarch Dominic Ihre Partouche, Cardinal of the Slaine Theocracy. It has not been five years since the young ruler has ascended to the throne of Baharuth, and already he has laid claim to the title that had once belonged to the King-Emperors of Ainz Ooal Gown hundreds of years ago.  
Garbed in the royal garments of lavish appearance, Emperor Jircniv ascended the great steps of Arwintar's central temple, where representatives from Slaine's Forty-One Temples awaited to anoint him with the sacred oils. This was followed by a long ritual presided by Hierarch Dominic, where the Crown of Ainz Ooal Gown, which once sat on the head of the last King-Emperor Dayo Nobuhiro, was placed on Jircniv's head, affirming to the rest of the world the Theocracy's legitimization of the Emperor's claim.  
This is also an affirmation of a long-rumored alliance between Baharuth and the Slaine Theocracy, in light of recent measures undertaken by Emperor Jircniv to curb the pro-demihuman laws his ancestors laid out. In the meantime, the Ruble Holy Kingdom and the Grand Duchy of Re-Estize have publicly lodged their protest of the claim, the former citing their monarch Calca Bessarez's descent from Nobuhiro's youngest daughter; while the latter pointed to the fact that the old Imperial Capital was located within their borders. Whatever happens in the future will only be a matter for speculation. But one is assured that this new move will make waves in our land's political and social landscape, and may even have unpredictable consequences down the road. One might only be able to pray fervently to the Forty-One, who are forever Watching, for the right path.

* * *

 **Excerpt from Prologue chapters**

"Ah, are you a visitor from out of town?"

The priest's voice echoed in the silence of the small chapel. The old man peered through the dust falling from the eaves at the surprise night-time visitor to his secluded domain. His eyes were already failing him, but it was clear to see this person was a gentleman of some import-he was well-dressed and stood in the stiff manner of a nobleman. His hair was as white as his own, which was a surprise, but as a priest of a failing cult he had no time to be stingy with the ages of his flock.

"Yes," said the stranger. "I am sorry for the intrusion."

"Not at all," the priest said with a wave. "All are welcome under the aegis of Lord Touch Me, blessed be his name." He made the sign of the Protector. "But, I find myself ashame not to be able to offer you anything more than these words of mine. Our branch here at Carne is in a sorry state, as you can see. A dwindling flock along with an enemy who glories in our Patron god are a nasty combination. It is only good that the township yet fears the Gods enough to not throw me out entirely."

"Hm." The man sounded noncommittal. Their eyes both went to the statue dominating the small hall. It was a marble statuette of the chapel's god, Touch Me of the Forty-One, a well-armored soldier with a shield leaning against his knee, and a sword slung over his shoulder. There had been many names attributed to this god, but he was foremost the "Grand Protector".

"It shames me to have to ask you this, good sir, but are you a believer?" The question was not without merit; as there had been many hoodlums in the neighborhood who'd loved to take potshots at this small chapel. He'd had to clean up a mess of manure himself on the walls outside.

"...In a manner of speaking," the visitor said, his eyes still intensely focused on the statue. Then, as if knowing what the priest was thinking, he further said, "You have nothing to fear from me. I would never do anything to insult Lord Touch Me, or any of the Supreme Beings, for that matter."

"'Supreme Beings'?" the priest repeated.

"Ahem... I mean the gods."

"Ah." The priest blinked. Usage of the odd term was puzzling, but not uncommon. He'd heard of the demihumans in the Argaland Council State who called them "Exalted Ones".

"Are there other shrines like these?" the man asked.

"You did not see the great shrine dedicated to Lord Amanomahitotsu near the entrance gates? It's not hard to miss. Carne Town has long had cults dedicated to the Matriarchal Aspect of Bukubukuchagama, since the time it was just a simple village on the outskirts of the old Kingdom, -so there's a chapel on the west end of the city. And lastly: well, I've only heard rumors, mind. But I hear tell there's a Death Pack in town who's secretly dedicated a heretical shrine to Momonga. Fools." The priest spat. "Lord Momonga should just smite them for daring to besmirch His name."

"I see. That was most helpful, sir."

"Think nothing of it, my brother," the priest said. "It is the duty of all who follow Lord Touch Me to come to the aid of everyone who needs it.

The stranger seemed about to say something else, but a noise from the entrance drew their attention. Armored guards burst in, the clatter of their armor shattering the peaceable silence inside the chapel. "Oi priest!" One of them said. "There's been a break-in at the gates! Have you seen some stranger come in?"

The priest's eyes widened. "Oh no, there's nothing-" He turned, but saw the stranger had disappeared, as if he had never been. He blinked rapidly. "-Nothing. Ahem. No, there's been nothing."

"I see. Sorry to disturb you," the guard said. "But we'd just like everyone to be alert."

"Yes..."

"Especially with the news that..." the guard's voice became hushed. "...That the Archduke's second son is leading an army here."

"Oh dear. Forty-One defend us." The priest glanced towards the statue of Touch Me, which seemed empty of divine inspiration. It seemed to be just a statue.

)()(

"So you've returned, Sebas."

"I am sorry for being late," said the man who looked like a venerable butler. He looked around at the hall, and greeted his fellow high-level Guardians.

"No, no, we had only just gathered ourselves," Demiurge said. It was difficult for anyone who knew the tailed devil dressed in a well-pressed suit to sound so amicable, but stranger things had already happened.

"So? So?" Aura Bella Fiora asked, jumping up and down in front of the butler. "How is it? Is it the same? Is it different? Are there strong monsters out there?"

"S-Sister..." Mare Bello Fiore came up timidly to softly admonish his sister. The twin dark elves were practically similar in appearance, if not for their clear difference in dress.

"Whaaat? You know you're as excited as I am to know!"

"B-but..."

"I TOO WOULD LIKE TO KNOW THE STRENGTH OF OUR ENEMIES," Cocytus boomed. The looming, insectile giant garbed in cruel ice. "BUT WE MUST LISTEN TO SEBAS' REPORT FIRST."

"Okay..."

"Such foolishness..." A child-like figure, wearing gothic lolita clothes, remarked. "Perhaps it would be best if the report could commence immediately, Demiurge? Being the Guardian of the first three floors, I must take charge of revitalizing our defenses. It is vital that I not tarry here."

"Of course, Shalltear," Demiurge said. "I'd wanted to hear it when 'they' came, but it appears they aren't coming, for now. Sebas?"

Sebas nodded, stepped up to stand before the other level 100 Guardians, and spoke.

He spoke of the ease of leaving the bounds of Nazarick, of the lack of anything that would hinder them from leaving. He described his surprise when he saw that outside was not an uninhabitable swamp, as many of them had guessed, but a great, grassy plain, extending far into the distance.

As he'd been commanded to, he set to exploring the area, and soon found himself in a town with humans.

"Humans..." Every Guardian tensed, as if Sebas had just described an enemy.

The humans were not hostile-or maybe it was that Sebas moved too fast for their senses. He was able to infiltrate inside the town called "Carne" by the inhabitants, and there found a surprise he had not expected.

There were many signs of their Masters within. On the outside of a grand temple was a giant stone carving of the great crab-like Lord Amanomahitotsu, wielding a hammer and tongs. Upon the headstones of a cemetery nearby were inscribed the effigies of the Guildmaster, the Overlord Momonga. Another temple, on the other side of town proclaimed the name of Bukubukuchagama, and within Sebas found a choir of humans singing hymns to that great one.

Inside homes were small shrines dedicated to this or that Supreme Being. Pleas and sacrifices to Peroroncino, to invite virility, burnt offerings to Yamaiko, for a safe childbirth; even an altar dedicated with curses to invoke the wrath of Luci*fer upon an enemy. Painted along the walls of a certain district were exaggerated caricatures of Ulbert Alain Odle and Bellriver, each Supreme One tearing apart a fat man limb from limb and devouring them. And then there had been the small chapel dedicated to Sebas' own creator, Touch Me.

After muttering with wonder and glee at Sebas' report, Demiurge was the first to remark, "Perhaps the Supreme Beings had created this great Outside. And yet... to be treated as gods?"

"And are they not gods, oh crafty one," Shalltear said, her cheeks flushed. "Oh, for who else but a god could create images of perfection, like us?"

"Demiurge," Sebas said. "I feel you should not doubt the humans' claims. For indeed, they are gods in here. I have witnessed the humans perform magic, in their name."

"Magic, you say?" Sebas nodded in response.

When Sebas had left Touch Me's chapel, he had gone for one last look at the town. He had borne witness to a certain soldier, clad in thick, almost gigantic armor. It pointed at a wall, and shouted, "By Ulbert Alain Odle, whose domain is disaster, [Earth Spike]!" Then, and Sebas could not miss it, Lord Ulbert's face had appeared, for a brief second, above the armored warrior, and the wall had shattered from the blow of a spell.

"I see..." Demiurge said, though he yet sounded skeptical.

"If you do not believe that, then believe this." And Sebas unveiled the last part of his report. He held up his glove, the one he used to wear on his hand, and showed to them all the hole that had been made through it.

After, Sebas had encountered elements of the town's guard. Not wishing to cause a scene, he'd evaded their pursuit. But just before he could scale the walls to escape, one of their number had shouted, "By Tabula Smaragdina, [Extend: Ice Spear]!" The projectile had been fast, and Sebas deflected it with his hand. It was only after he'd left the walls entirely that he realized that the spell had pierced his glove. The glove, which had been given to him by the Supreme Beings, had been damaged by a spell that had invoked their power.

That changed things. Demiurge adjourned the meeting, and urged Shalltear to tighten their defenses, and for the other Floor Guardians to look to their own. For if the humans here had been blessed by their masters, then they would be hard-pressed to defend against their assault. And as the creations of Nazarick, of Ainz Ooal Gown, their foremost duty was the defense of the vast dungeon.

And also, there was another reason to heighten security.

Sebas returned to the meeting hall, where the Pleiades awaited.

"Has there been a change?"

Yuri Alpha, the second in command, shook her head. Sebas joined them in looking towards the center of the room. There, arranged around a great big circular table, were the Forty-One Supreme Beings (plus one). All of them, in their powerful and resplendent garb, displaying their might as the powerful guild Ainz Ooal Gown. And yet, there was one thing that they instantly noticed.

None of them moved. None of them spoke. They all just sat there, as if frozen in time. Only Momonga seemed different from the rest, as he had risen from his seat and raised his clenched bony arm, as if ordering the whole guild to mobilize. But even he was frozen in that pose.

The Guardians had noticed that they had been frozen like this for a long time. There had been a long time before any of them had even thought to enter the meeting room, and see the truth; and it had taken an even longer time for Sebas to volunteer to exit Nazarick. And through all that time, the Forty-One had remained the same. They did not respond to the NPCs. They did not respond to their personal creations. They were as statues.

And now with the knowledge of a hostile and unknown world out there, it became more important than ever to fulfill their roles as Guardians.

* * *

 **For what is our world, but the plaything of the Forty-One?**  
-from the epistles of St. Cirmar the Devout to the Troll Kingdoms


End file.
